Children of Fate
by DragonQueen83
Summary: 25 years after the fall of the Archdemon, Alistair has become king and married his fellow Grey Warden, Elissa Cousland.  After many years of trying, they were finally able to bear a child, Lyana.  But another child has come of age as well.
1. Chapter 1: Strange Dreams

**Introduction**

The story takes place 25 years after the fall of the Archdemon. After taking Morrigan's dark offer, Alistair married his fellow Grey Warden, Elissa Cousland, and was crowned King of Ferelden. After many difficult years of trying and miscarriages, they were finally able to bear a daughter named Lyana. The darkspawn threat has all but disappeared, and even Morrigan has not been heard from in some time. However, her child has no doubt grown up, and fate is about to invade all of their lives once again.

**Chapter 1: Strange Dreams**

_Hide and seek again, I see._

Lyana narrowed her eyes as she peered through the dense, wintry forest. An unsettling quiet enveloped the land with a fog as thick as the snow beneath her boots. A brief gust of wind whistled past, sending a chill up her spine as she pulled a tattered cloak more tightly around her. Though no creature stirred, she knew that she was not alone. She could _feel_ him. Feel his breath, his pulsing heart, his eyes drinking her in as she stood frozen amidst the trees. She was jealous that he was able to watch her so, when she struggled to catch the barest glimpse of him. But then again, she had wandered into _his_ forest.

Who he was, Lyana did not know. As a child, she had sometimes fancied him as a guardian spirit from the Fade, for she had only known him in her dreams, and it was there that he was always watching her. But as she grew older, she realized that it was not from benevolence that he minded her presence, but from a mutual curiosity at this encroachment of his domain. Sometimes, she chased him through the forest, as if catching him would procure answers from this mysterious dream companion. But he always managed to elude her.

She closed her eyes, and tried to track the sensation of his presence, a talent she had acquired over many years of visiting this strange dream world. It was almost as if she could join in with his consciousness if she tried hard enough. She wondered if he felt it too. Or if he – if all this – was nothing more than a construct of her mind or some particularly mischevious Fade spirit.

She turned her head to the left, where she could sense his beating heart pumping blood so hot through his veins that it warmed her too. Each breath inched her closer to his hiding place in the dense trees. Opening her eyes, she spotted bright golden orbs peering back at her from a shadow.

Their gaze held for a moment, each sizing the other up. In an instant though, he was gone, a flash of fur darting away from beside a rock. _I've got to catch you one day, right?_ Lyana thought to herself, as she rushed after him in their familiar dance. The snow crunched clumsily under her boots, and the wind burned against her chapped cheeks, but she did not even notice.

He always seemed to be one step ahead of her, but neither could he lose her. She knew this part of the forest almost as well as he now, and she fleetingly sensed his presence as they ran through the woods. But today, he was not leading her in the usual neverending circles until dawn shattered their dream. Today he was taking her deeper into the woods, where the dead branches caught in her hair and slowed her down. Ahead, thick bushes rattled as something darted through them, and she followed.

She struggled through the dense underbrush, finally having to abandon her cloak as it became hopelessly entangled. By the time she emerged to the other side, she knew that the stranger would have evaded her once again. With a final stumbling step, she pushed through to a clearing, and the unexpected took her breath away.

Ahead of her lay a dilapidated ruin, stone columns jutting awkwardly out of the frozen landscape. Half destroyed statues lined what must have once been a grand entranceway, and Lyana's eyes darted around, looking for clues that would help her look up this place in the palace library later. Perhaps she would gain some validity to her dreams instead of constantly worrying if she was mad.

As she placed her first step onto the broken stone walkway, Lyana's stomach tightened into a hard knot. The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up. She could not shake the feeling that there was danger here. No, more than danger. _Evil._ She wondered if there was a Fade demon here. Although she was no mage, the tales of a spirit possessing your body from your dreams were not ones she took lightly. Nevertheless, as nothing immediately appeared, curiosity overcame her fear and she gingerly stepped further into the ruins.

Staying close to the walls, Lyana ran her hand along the cold, smooth stones, her fingers occasionally tracing over strange writings carved into it. If she could find her way back here in another dream, perhaps she could work on setting the unfamiliar words to memory. As she contemplated this, a faint whispering ahead drew her attention.

"Hello?" she quietly called. There was no response, save for the same low whispering that seemed unaware of her presence. She followed the source of the sound deeper into the ruins. A great wooden doorway loomed ahead. The danger seemed easy to ignore as she anticipated finally being able to speak with her mysterious dream watcher. As she approached the door, the voices grew somewhat louder, audible now, though chanting and muttering in a language she did not understand. And there were many of them; if _he_ was there, he was not alone.

She approached the door and placed her ear along the splintered wood, trying to hear what the voices were saying. It seemed they were inside the ruins, though not immediately next the door. Steeling her courage, Lyana took a deep breath and slowly cracked open the door. She winced when it creaked, but the tenor of the voices did not change and she assumed they did not hear her.

Peeking inside the door revealed a long stone corridor, with no one in sight. At the end of the hallway, a faint glow emanated from around the corner. Though her sense of danger was almost overwhelming now, Lyana dared to step foot inside.

Almost instantly, the voices reached a loud and frantic volume, filling the air around her even as they seemed to rumble up out of the earth. Their chants became nauseating, and though she wanted to run, she suddenly found herself weakly falling to her knees. An intense pressure filled her mind, until her brain felt it had swelled so much that it would explode. Lyana clutched desperately at her head, fighting to stay conscious.

Footsteps in the stone hall distracted her for a moment. She half expected to see a demon hungrily making its way towards her, but when she glanced up, it was only a woman. Although with her dark hair flowing wildly to her shoulders, dressed in skins and leathers from any numberof animals, Lyana wasn't sure she was in much better shape.

The woman approached her and merely stood there, folding her arms and staring down at Lyana as if she was a strange marvel. Lyana tried to cry for help, but all that emerged was a whimper and eyes that brimmed with tears. The woman pursed her lips and started to turn away. Lyana groaned as the pain in her head became nearly too much to bear.

Suddenly the woman turned back around as if recalling a faint memory, and used her walking stick to force Lyana's head up towards her. The woman's strangely yellow eyes peered inquisitively into hers, and for a moment, Lyana wondered if _she_ could be _him._ But before she could follow that thought, the woman sighed in resignation, and lifted Lyana from the ground.

"I will regret this," the woman muttered, placing her hand on Lyana's forehead. A swirling haze filled Lyana's vision, lulling her to a sleep she was too weak to fight. _Perhaps this is a demon after all,_ she thought as her heavy eyes closed and the cacophany of voices slowly receded into a quiet, dark void.


	2. Chapter 2: Closer to Reckoning

**Chapter 2: Closer to Reckoning**

A piercing scream jolted the silence, jerking Lyana from her slumber. Still panting with fear, she suddenly found herself back in her bedroom. She glanced around as a storm outside caused shadows to race around the briefly illuminated darkness. Wind whipped the tree branches across her window like ethereal fingers, reminding her of the forest that had felt so real only a moment ago. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she wondered if the scream had been imagined…or if it had come from her.

A low growl by the door caught her attention, and for a moment she thought the forest beast had somehow followed her. Jerking a knife from under her pillow, Lyana whirled upright, catching the inquisitive glance of a very large dog. "Maker's breath, Odin," she muttered, trying in vain to calm her beating heart. "Don't scare me like that!"

Lyana slowly crawled out of bed, rubbing her eyes to try to adjust back to this new reality. Odin began to whimper and paw at the door, and Lyana knew better than to ignore him. Odin was a Mabari hound, and if her mother was to be listened to, the smartest one who ever lived at that. "What's wrong, boy?" she asked, moving to open the door.

Odin bounded down the hall ahead of her, towards her parents' room, and Lyana began to feel uneasy. As she neared the bedroom, she noticed a small crowd of worried-looking elves wringing their hands and whispering to each other. They hurried to straighten themselves as she approached.

"Princess Lyana, you shouldn't be out of bed at this hour," Nala, her former nanny, protested. The old woman's frail age did little to alter her intimidating appearance, but Lyana was getting too old to be coddled.

"If something is wrong with my parents, I believe I have the right to know," Lyana replied. "I heard screaming."

"It's just the wind, dear," Nala tried to console her, gently prodding her back towards her own room. "Didn't you hear the storm outside? Now run along, before…"

Odin's low growl matched Lyana's icy stare. "I hope you don't mind if I just take a peek."

"My dear, that's hardly appropriate…!" Nala stuttered as Lyana and Odin brushed past her. The other elves muttered to themselves and quickly began to disperse as Lyana turned the knob to her parents' bedroom.

Inside, it took her a moment to adjust her eyes to the dim lighting, but it didn't take long to make out the dim figures of her parents sitting in bed. Her father, Alistair, held his wife close. He looked up as the door opened.

"Who's there?" Alistair called. Before she could respond, the king sighed as he recognized his daughter. "By the Maker, Lyana, what are you doing here?"

"I heard a scream and I just wanted to see…"

Her mother sat up straight, pulling herself out of Alistair's arms and holding the covers close to her chest. "It was just a bad dream, my dear," Elissa said calmly. "Grey Wardens get nightmares sometimes, remember?"

Lyana frowned. _Nightmares perhaps, but screaming?_ "Yes, I remember, but…"

"Come here." Lyana approached the bed, and Elissa pulled her down to kiss her on the forehead. "You are sweet to check on me. Now run along back to bed, you don't want to be tired in the morning. Did you forget about the Victor's Celebration tomorrow?"

"No, mother," Lyana mumbled.

Alistair smiled wryly. "You women are nothing but trouble, keeping me up all hours of the night. It's Warden Appreciation Day and I'm going to have droopy eyes. What kind of example does that set?"

Lyana rolled her eyes at her father, but moved to leave. "We'll talk in the morning?"

"Of course," Alistair replied. "Now take that mangy mutt with you. He snores too much."

Odin barked at Alistair, who did little but raise an eyebrow. Lyana patted Odin's head with a smile and led him out of the room. "Don't worry, boy. I don't mind you snoring."

* * *

Elissa watched as Lyana shut the door before sinking back into her husband's arms. Alistair rubbed her arm affectionately, but could not hide the worried look on his face. "The nightmares are getting worse, aren't they?" he inquired.

"Is it strange to say I wish there was an archdemon around to add some sentience to the chaos?" Elissa asked her husband as she lay her head against his chest. The warmth of his skin and the sound of his heart were comforting.

"No. I understand what you mean, love. These voices are…"

"Madness," they said in unison.

"Duncan was right when he said that eventually we would be able to understand the darkspawn. I just didn't expect it to be like this," Alistair remarked, resting his head on top of his wife's as he held her. "I thought we'd get to be privy to some super secret Archdemon plans or something, you know? The darkspawn that are left are filled with more raging crazy talk than Oghren."

"I was in the Deep Roads tonight," Elissa told him with a shudder. "The darkspawn were crawling everywhere, calling for me to join them in their feast. I watched as they ripped apart a legion of dwarves down there. They gnawed their way through muscle and flesh, blood spilling all around them. Some even ate each other. I watched as it…made them stronger. And the smell… The smell of blood was both nauseating and intoxicating. It was as if I was becoming one with them for a moment, as if all I wanted to do was crouch down beside them and feel the warmth and the _power_ of blood as it gushed from a still beating heart."

Alistair was silent. "Is that why the Wardens go to the Deep Roads to die in battle?" she asked him. "Because eventually the darkspawn blood within us drives us to _become_ one of them?"

"I…I don't know, Elissa."

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, still trying to shake the dark images from her mind. She whispered, "Does this mean it's almost time?" She glanced up at her husband, but he would not meet her eyes. "Alistair, look at me."

Alistair shook his head and moved away from her, throwing his feet off the side of the bed. He bent over, massaging his temples. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

"I don't think we have much more time to talk," Elissa insisted. "It's been 27 years, you know. We were only supposed to get thirty at best. I wouldn't have traded these years with you for anything. But…I'm not quite ready to go yet. I had hoped to see Lyana get married one day. She's grown, but just barely. I don't know if she's ready to take the throne by herself yet."

Alistair slowly turned and put his hand on his wife's cheek. "Don't think of such things yet, my love. You have some time left with Lyana and who knows, maybe she'll stop being stubborn in time to find her a proper suitor." He smiled tenderly at Elissa. "You know, if there has been one bright spot in this great mess we found ourselves in, it has been our daughter. Being king and all that is fine, though usually more trouble than it's worth. But I count myself luckiest that I was able to marry my love and have a child with you." He chuckled. "Not that it was easy of course. For awhile I thought the arls were going to have both our heads for losing so many children before their births." Alistair leaned back in thought. "Hmm, I still remember that riot where they called you a witch."

"Well, I'm glad you were able to convince them otherwise."

"Oh, don't thank me," Alistair grinned. "I wanted to tell them that you were indeed a wicked temptress who seduced me against my solemn templar vows and would have probably killed me if I didn't give in to your demands to become king and marry you. It was Arl Teagan who convinced me that sometimes little white lies are more diplomatic."

"I seduced you, was it?" Elissa asked with mock incredulity. "I seem to remember a stammering, blushing young man awkwardly asking if I would take his virginity before we died."

"Really? Funny, I always seem much more suave and daring in my memories. Ah well, at least I have learned a few tricks since that first fateful night, eh?" Alistair leaned in and cupped her breast with his hand as he softly kissed her neck.

"That you have," Elissa agreed, though distracted. Frowning a bit, she took her husband's head in her hands and gently pulled his face close to hers. "Will…will you come with me when it's time? To the Deep Roads?"

Alistair sighed heavily. "My dreams have not become like yours yet. I am King of Ferelden, Elissa, and we have a daughter. Would you have me abandon my duties before it is necessary?" His heart ached at the sight of the sadness that filled her eyes. He tenderly drew her head to his chest and held her tight. "Come now, you know I can't bear to see you upset. I always cry before you do, remember?" Alistair bent down to whisper in her ear. "I will take you to the Deep Roads when it is time, and we shall see how far I am able to hold onto you." Alistair stroked Elissa's cheek and moved to kiss her forehead before brushing his lips down her cheeks and across her soft lips.

"Now come," he whispered. "Let me make love to you. The nightmares never find you after that."

The warmth of his mouth lulled Elissa's fears, and she kissed him back passionately as he moved back the covers and slowly pulled off her nightshirt. Alistair pulled her body tight against him and his heat flowed through her, burning away the last filthy vestiges of her dreams. "I love you," she whispered.

Alistair smiled. "I love you too."


	3. Chapter 3: Victor's Celebration

**Chapter 3: Victor's Celebration**

The sound of revelry awoke Elissa from her slumber. Forcing her eyes open, she rolled over towards Alistair, who she found wide awake, arms folded behind his head as he smiled down at her. "Good morning, my dear. I was beginning to think you weren't ever going to get up."

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Elissa glanced towards the window, where the sounds of a crowd floated their way into the room. "Your subjects are up early this morning."

"Or we're just very late," Alistair mused. "I wanted to let you sleep, and besides, I'm pretty sure I've been King long enough that they don't expect much anymore, right?"

He threw his legs off the bed and stood to stretch his arms high to the ceiling. Elissa couldn't help but admire her husband's form, still athletic after all these years. And the touches of silver mingled into his blond hair only added to his charm. His body was laced with scars now, as if the makings of some strange Chasind tattoo, but she could recall the stories behind every one them. The mornings always made him look like he had been pulled right from one of those battles, with his messy hair and scruffy chin, and somehow, that was still how she liked him best.

"I suppose we'd better get going. Lyana will be furious that we kept her waiting."

"That's the spirit," Alistair replied. "I'll send in Tania to help you get ready for your adoring fans."

Elissa crinkled her nose. "You know, after all these years, I still feel more comfortable in a good suit of armor than those ridiculous dresses someone decided queens should wear. It takes three people to put one on! And with all the intricate ties and knots everywhere, if a darkspawn army ransacked Denerim again and I found myself the last surviving person…well, needless to say I would spend the rest of my life trapped in the same set of clothes."

Alistair laughed and winked. "Well, comfortable or not, your royal attire does highlight your…assets, my dear. I've been telling everyone you're the most beautiful woman in Ferelden for years. You have a reputation to live up to!"

"Just hurry and get ready," Elissa replied, shaking her head. "The people await their king."

* * *

Leliana turned as the crowd erupted into applause. From the top of the palace steps, King Alistair and Queen Elissa graciously waved down to the crowd, their daughter Lyana falling into place behind them. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of the happy family. It was a scene she never would have imagined so many years ago, when she joined a ragtag pair of Grey Wardens who seemed barely sure of themselves as a last defense against the Blight.

Although, the pair still didn't fit the typical mold of royalty. The both of them still strapped on their swords at the slightest opportunity. And Alistair, when the stresses of kingship became too much, was rumored to enjoy sneaking away from his guards to spend an afternoon inconspicuously drinking at some local tavern, while the entire palace staff was in an uproar looking for him. She did not doubt that Alistair found it more amusing than anything. And Elissa…beautiful Elissa was both Queen and General, a rather unheard of combination. And though Leliana often got an earful in Orlesia about the scandal such a thing must cause, Leliana would only smile and respond that if the Orlesian court knew the Grey Warden as well as she did…well, they would all be ready to follow her into battle too.

Leliana moved closer to the stage as Alistair prepared to deliver his customary speech. At the very least, the reluctant king had become more eloquent as time went by.

"Men and women of Denerim, of Ferelden, I welcome you once again to the annual festivities of the Victor's Celebration!" Alistair began, to another round of applause.

"Although it has been many years since the Blight was upon us, we should never forget the sacrifice of those that fell defending our lands. The Blight brought us together – human, elf, and dwarf, mage and templar, peasant and noble. All fought side by side to end the darkspawn that threatened our homes."

"It was this common goal that made us triumphant. It was bravery and sacrifice that won each battle. Many of you fought in that battle yourselves, and this is the time we remind you that your part has not been forgotten. This week, we do not mourn the losses of our brothers and sisters; we celebrate the courage that inspired a nation. The Grey Wardens have increased their numbers far beyond what I thought possible to see in my lifetime, and they carry your banner forward, to keep evil from ever entering these gates again!"

The crowd cheered and chanted Alistair's name for a moment, before he lifted a hand to quiet them down. "But my friends, the most important thing here…is that I am keeping you from Denerim's finest ale." The crowd laughed. " Enjoy the celebration."

Leliana chuckled and shook her head as people began to disperse in a merry mood. King or not, Alistair would always be Alistair.

As she began to turn away, she was startled to feel hands grab her arms tightly from behind. Alarmed, she kicked her assailant hard in the shin with the pointy heel of her shoe and felt herself released immediately. She whirled around, meeting the tanned, tattooed face of an elf cringing in pain.

"Zevran?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "As inappropriate as ever, it seems."

"Was that really necessary, Ambassador?" Zevran winced. "I merely wanted to see how quick you were after so many years of pampering at the Orlesian Court. I do believe your skills are rusty, but those heels…sharp as ever."

"Not all rogues must hide in the shadows, you know," she replied. "Some of us are so cunning we can stay in the open and no one is the wiser."

"Well, it helps if you are a woman, of course," Zevran told her, glancing over her with a hungry smile plastered on his face. "It makes you much more…distracting."

Leliana shook her head. "I would have thought that so many years working in the palace would have helped to reform you a bit."

"Actually, the Royal Guard is not so different than the Crows," Zevran laughed. "It gets you access to much wine and fine women…only less chance of winding up dismembered in a ditch."

"So I see."

"If it isn't my namesake!" a voice called from behind, and the two turned as Lyana approached them from the crowd.

"Princess Lyana," Leliana said with a smile, offering the girl a hug.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here," Lyana told her. "Mother said you wouldn't be able to make it."

"Well, the Orlesian Court does keep me on my toes, though such events are important for the Ambassador to Ferelden to attend, no? But still, you know I like to surprise you." Leliana called over a young elf who quickly produced a box wrapped in glittering gold paper. "I brought you a gift."

Lyana unwrapped the box and opened the lid to find an exquisite pair of blue velvet shoes. A gold satin ribbon wove in and out around the length of the shoe, to the toe, where it was gathered into a thick bow. "They're beautiful," Lyana gushed.

"I am glad you like them," Leliana replied. "I keep telling your mother that she must do something about the fashion sense in Ferelden. How are you supposed to find a suitable man when you can barely find nice shoes?"

Lyana scrunched her nose. "I'm not so interested in that right now, actually. Have you seen the men at court? It's hard to find a man attractive when you know he'd cry if you challenged him to a fight."

"Ah, Princess, how right you are," Zevran butted in. "A beautiful woman needs a strong man after all. One who knows his way around the end of a sword, if you know what I mean." He winked at Lyana. "And knowing some clever rope tricks never hurt either. If you ever desire a man with such experience, you certainly know where to find me."

Lyana blushed a deep red as Leliana scowled and smacked Zevran hard on the arm. "You should be ashamed of yourself," Leliana told him. "If Alistair heard you talking to his daughter that way, he would do worse than cut off your head."

Zevran laughed. "Alistair has been trying to get rid of me for more than twenty years. Besides, she is obviously no longer a child, is she? Such a magnificent bosom has blossomed on that one."

Leliana's jaw dropped. "Zevran!"

Zevran briefly brushed Leliana's cheek with his thumb before she flinched away. "Or perhaps…I was just trying to provoke _you_, Leliana, my dear. I love it when you are riled up. Your forehead gets so cute and wrinkly."

Leliana glared, though Lyana could not help but hide a smile behind her palm. "Perhaps you had better make the rounds, Zevran," Lyana finally told him. "I'm sure events like this bring all sorts of assassination attempts, right?"

"Eh, perhaps you are correct," Zevran replied. He bowed deeply to Lyana. "My lady." Turning to Leliana, he grabbed her hand with an assassin's speed and gently kissed the back of it. "One day, Leliana." With a wink and a grin, he had disappeared into the crowd.

Lyana burst into a giggle as Zevran finally exited. "Why do you let him get you so flustered?" she asked Leliana, who was busy trying to smooth out hair that had never moved from place to start with.

"I'm not…flustered," Leliana protested. "He just has such an annoying way about him, does he not? The man is almost 50 and he still acts as if he were 15."

"I don't find him so bad," Lyana replied. "At least he is honest, and around here, that can be somewhat refreshing."

"Just don't ever let him touch you. That man probably has more strange diseases than the swamp lands."

Lyana laughed. "That, I don't doubt. Now come, there are so many new things at the festival this year. And tonight Father is having a special dinner for all his old friends. I know you won't want to miss that."

"Never," Leliana replied with a smile.


	4. Chapter 4: Dark Child

**Chapter 4: Dark Child**

"Who is she, mother?"

"Hmm?" Morrigan looked up from the large pot simmering over the fire. Behind her sat a young man robed in tattered furs, blond hair shimmering softly in the firelight. His features somehow remained soft and boyish, even in the harsh conditions that surrounded them. It was exactly those features that had provided no end of annoyance to her. If the Maker was real, he certainly had a strange sense of humor.

"The girl," the young man repeated, absently whittling away at a stick as he spoke.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Lucian," Morrigan replied, pulling a spoon out of the brew and tasting it. It tasted like the stew she used to make in the Korcari Wilds, because that is what she _wanted_ it to taste like. She could think of no better substance to warm her bones in their dreadfully cold surroundings. That was the one thing she could not change. _It is really no wonder that darkspawn want so badly to travel to the surface,_ she thought. _It's warmer there_.

Lucian narrowed his eyes, golden like his mother's. "Don't lie to me. I saw you take her away."

Morrigan glanced his way with a slight smile. "My, my, aren't we the observant one." She waved her hand dismissingly. "She is of little consequence. A lost wanderer, no doubt. But she is gone now, one way or another."

"I thought you said no one could ever find us here."

"It is still true, is it not?" Morrigan asked. "She did not come to find us. How she got here at all is a mystery."

"She's been here before, you know," Lucian remarked without emotion. In his hands, the stick was beginning to take shape into an almost human, but strangely gnarled figure.

Morrigan looked back with alarm. "What do you mean?" she asked harshly.

"She has been coming here as long as I can remember. Not so often, but I have seen her in the forest many times. I like to watch her. She is so strange…like she does not belong here at all."

Morrigan's mind whirled with things she had not thought possible. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Lucian shrugged. "I thought it must be some sort of vision, or just some creature from the Fade. There are stranger things around than a girl. Besides, she was a mystery. Deep down, I think she is like me. But she does not even seem to know it." He looked up in thought. "How can she not know?"

"Most likely she has been raised by a bumbling idiot," Morrigan replied sourly. "Be glad I am here to teach you, my boy." Pouring him a bowl of the broth, she carried it over to him and laid it gingerly in his hands. Stroking his hair, she leaned in to smell the scent of him – dark and wild. It was a shame that he was a boy really, but that was only a minor inconvenience. She could get used to it with time. What mattered was his _power –_ a seemingly infinite pool lying just under the surface of his boyish exterior. He had easily surpassed her abilities by the time he was barely a teen, and it was clear that even those…_things_…now took heed when he spoke.

_It will be time soon enough_, she mused. Perhaps then she would even go back and visit Alistair, to tell him all about his bastard child. _That_ would be amusing. But first, there was a far greater task she still had to see if Lucian could accomplish. She had no doubt it could be done in time. After all, they had already come _this_ far. All she desired was so close she could taste it in the frosty air.

Lucian tipped his bowl up and drank. He curled his nose. "Rather bland," he criticized. Bowing his head, he closed his eyes, as if in deep meditation. When he opened them, they were deep red for a moment, before fading back to gold. At the end of the hallway behind them, the pattering of feet began to make its way up the ruined cobblestone floor. A single genlock scampered towards them, its stumpy legs resulting in an awkward run that Lucian found mildly amusing.

As the genlock approached, almost as if unsure of itself, Lucian motioned it forward. He swiftly reached out and grabbed the genlock's gnarled hand, using his knife to slowly cut a deep gash in the creature's arm. The genlock shrieked and bared its pointed teeth, but did not move. Lucian cocked his head in fascination as the dark red blood ran down the creature's arm until it dripped steadily from its wrist. Moving the bowl to catch the liquid, Lucian watched as the blood swirled within the broth until it seemed to overtake the bowl's original contents. He released the genlock's hand, and the creature scurried back down into the dark cavern from which it came.

Putting the bowl back to his mouth, Lucian drank deeply. The salty taste washed over his tastebuds and pulsed hotly through his veins. Lucian wiped a blood droplet from the corner of his mouth as he turned to his mother and smiled.

"Better."

Morrigan poured her own bowl of soup and tried her best to keep her nose from upturning in disgust. It seemed he was doing that more often lately, though she could only assume it was necessary. Thus far the darkspawn seemed more confused by him than anything, as if they were not sure why they listened to anything he said. But his powers had served them well enough. At least it had let her avoid the annoying task of killing hordes of the disgusting creatures. And they were close now…so very close.

A thought suddenly came to her, and she looked up from her bowl. "My dear, you said you had seen that girl before?"

Lucian shrugged. "Yes."

"Do you know where she is?"

"She is not always here," Lucian replied. "She comes and goes, like the wind. When she is here, I know it immediately. I can feel her presence. But when she is not…," he shrugged, "nothing."

Morrigan pondered this information for a moment. "What if I told you I was quite interested in meeting this girl? Could you tell the darkspawn to…fetch her?"

Lucian cocked his head, as if thinking about the prospect. He was quiet a long time, eyes glazed over in meditation. Finally, he blinked hard several times and turned to his mother. "They say I have to tell them where she is. Perhaps next time she comes here then."

"Oh, I have an idea where she might be," Morrigan smiled.

"And how is that…?" Lucian asked curiously.

"A story for another day, my dear. For now, pay close attention. I am quite curious if you have the power to do as I ask."

Lucian's face darkened and he scowled. "I have the power to do whatever I want. Don't ever doubt that, Mother."

"Well, we shall see, won't we?" Morrigan replied mildly, folding her arms in discontent.


	5. Chapter 5: Reuniting the Remnants

**Chapter 5: Reuniting the Remnants**

"Come in, come in!" Alistair called, rising from his seat as Leliana and his daughter entered the Banquet Hall. He placed his hand on Leliana's shoulder and smiled. "It's good to see you again, Leliana. It's been awhile. I thought I was going to have to declare war to get our Ambassador to come visit again."

"Oh, don't worry," Leliana replied. "I am getting better at finding excuses to get away from the Orlesian court." She moved towards Elissa, and the two exchanged a kiss on the cheek. Alistair motioned to an empty seat and Leliana took a seat beside Oghren, who already smelled strongly of ale. He grinned drunkenly at her as she sat down.

Leliana glanced around the room, the large hall decorated with banners and tapestries across its walls. They sat on a dais at the head of the room, looking out over a collection of tables meant to seat as many as 100. Their own table seated 10, though she noticed that they were still unable to fill even that. Alistair and Elissa chatted quietly to Lyana, Oghren burped loudly beside her, and across the table, Zevran leaned back in his chair, absently cleaning under his nails with a knife. And that…was all.

Elissa seemed to follow her gaze. "It does seem like we are fewer every year, doesn't it?" she remarked sadly. "It really seems like just yesterday that Wynne passed away." She smiled a little. "Alistair hasn't known what to do without her telling him how to run the country."

"Ouch," Alistair remarked, picking up his butter knife and waving it towards his wife. "Here, I find this a much better weapon if you wish to stab me in the face." He chuckled a little. "She was probably the only person that ever really scared me. But she was usually right about everything."

"I suppose Shale could not take a break from her tasks in the Deep Roads then?" Leliana asked, poking at Oghren, who was now facedown on the table.

"What?" Oghren bellowed, sitting straight up as if he had just been woken from a deep sleep. He squinted his eyes. "Oh, Shale, eh? It's been down there giving those darkspawn a run for their money, that's for sure. And rebuilding Aeducan Thaig. _Someone's_ got to carry the heavy stuff." He snorted. "Not that I get down there much. They were going to make me a Paragon but said I had gotten too claustrophobic!" He let out a loud guffaw that ended up in a belch.

Elissa crinkled her nose as Oghren's foul breath made it all the way to her chair. "I thought Felsi had made you stop drinking as much."

"Exactly!" Oghren exclaimed. "She's at home with the kid. I've only got six more days to recondition my neglected liver."

"Of…course you do," Leliana replied with a forced smile. "And Sten…he did not come again this year?"

Alistair shook his head and frowned. "He has not returned since 4 years ago, when he said the Antaam was not pleased with his relationship with the Fereldens. I'm not sure what that is supposed to mean, but I'm always needing new things to worry about, right?"

"I would not worry too much about the Qunari," Zevran remarked. "I am sure Sten regaled them with stories of your victory over the Archdemon. You must be ten foot tall and breathing fire by now. And you have that handsome assassin at your side who can kill a man from a mile away. Or seduce a woman from that distance, depending on the situation." He shrugged and flicked his knife into the table with a sly grin. "I certainly wouldn't want to mess with me."

"Somehow I don't think embellishment is Sten's strong suit," Elissa replied. "But let's hope you're right."

Leliana paused for a moment, unsure if she should even ask her question. "And…Morrigan?" she finally said. "No one has heard from her either, I assume?"

"With any luck she froze solid in the Frostback Mountains years ago and the dwarves use her as an ice statue to hang ribbons on during the holidays," Alistair replied sourly. His face darkened. "But she is the last person I want to discuss today." He motioned to a servant standing patiently by the door. "Enough of all this, the King is hungry. Ravenous even!" The elven servant bowed and scuttled off into the kitchen.

"Your Majesty, if you have a moment?" a deep voice called from the back of the room. They all turned to see two men standing by the entrance to the hall, arms folded across their chests in a slight bow. The older of them had dark hair with a thick grey streak wandering its way back to his ponytail. A large sword was strapped to the back of a his heavy chainmail armor. To his side stood a very young man, his chocolate colored hair cut just above his ears and flowing loosely into his face. His armor was much simpler than the other's, and the shield on his back was emblazoned with the familiar winged griffon.

"Come in, Garrett," Alistair said, getting up from his chair to meet the older man. "I always have time for my Warden-Commander." He turned to the young man. "And who is this? Our new recruit?"

"This is Darien," Garrett responded, patting the recruit on the shoulder. "He hasn't stopped talking about you and the Queen since we found him."

Alistair cocked an eyebrow. "Not another person expecting me to be ten foot tall and breathing fire, I hope?" he quipped. Darien brow furrowed in confusion and Alistair laughed and shook his hand. "Don't mind me, though you will get used to my terrible jokes. This wise kingly thing you hear about is all a carefully constructed act."

Elissa moved down beside them and nodded to Darien. "It's always good to hear of another Grey Warden joining us. Your sacrifice is just as great when there is no Blight, which perhaps makes it even more nobler in a sense."

"Thank you, your Majesty," Darien replied. He glanced up at the table behind the King, wondering if the others there were the Wardens' brave companions from the stories. His eyes wandered to where the princess sat, who was watching them intently. Their gaze met for a moment, and he was captivated by her long blond hair and endlessly blue eyes. Despite his efforts to control it, he could feel a goofy smile creeping up on his face, and the princess blushed slightly and looked away.

"The King asked you a question, boy."

Darien shook his head, his face flushing a deep red. "I…I'm sorry," he stammered.

Alistair glanced backwards, though he was pretty sure he knew what was so distracting back there. "I was simply curious where you hailed from."

"Rainesfere, your Majesty."

"Good people there," Alistair nodded. "I trust you will do your best to make the Grey Wardens proud."

Before Darien could answer, a haggard looking servant rushed into the banquet hall. "Your Majesty!" he panted, a wild fear in his eyes. "The…the darkspawn. They're in the Square!"


	6. Chapter 6: Darkspawn

**Chapter 6: Darkspawn**

For a moment, it seemed as if time stood still. Alistair's mind whirled as he took in the messenger's frantic words. _Darkspawn? Here?_ For a moment he even entertained the notion that this was some sort of Feastday prank pulled a few months early for effect. Though if the look of terror on the servant's face was an act, he deserved some sort of award for sure. Closing his eyes, Alistair could feel the distinctive tingling at the edge of his consciousness, a sensation he had almost forgotten in the last few years of peace.

Pulling his thoughts together, Alistair's eyes narrowed and he switched into the now familiar mode of commander. He turned to Garrett. "Make sure all the Wardens are out there, if they haven't heard already. You too, Oghren. Zevran, I'm sure you know what to do…" Alistair turned, but the assassin's chair was already empty. Oghren was busy picking up his heavy hammer off the floor with a grunt. "Leliana, you are of course welcome to do as you please, though I always welcome your bow."

Leliana smiled, leaning over on the table. "There is nowhere else I'd rather be, Your Majesty."

"And Elissa…care to join me for a little dance, my dear?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she grinned, a dark glint in her eye. "To the armory then?"

"Your Majesties," Garrett interrupted. "I'm sure the Grey Wardens can handle…"

"Of course they can," Alistair remarked. "Or did you forget that we are Grey Wardens too?"

"As you wish, Your Majesty," Garrett bowed. "Darien, it looks like you'll get a chance to use that blade sooner than you had thought." He motioned for Darien to follow him when Alistair held up his hand.

"Perhaps not," Alistair said. "Darien, take Lyana back to her room and stay there."

Lyanna jumped up from her seat in protest. "But…!"

"I don't have time for your buts," Alistair called as he followed Elissa and Leliana from the room towards the armory. With a last second thought, he turned and pointed a stern finger at Darien. "And you…mind your manners!"

* * *

Fully geared in a kingly suit of armor, shield emblazoned with a dragon crest, Alistair ran down the palace steps to meet a scene that jolted him back to another time. Chaos ruled as screams filled the air. His subjects scattered as the darkspawn ran after them, tearing them down in their tracks. Tents from the festival were aflame, creating a choking cloud of smoke. Blood ran between the cobblestones as too many bodies already lay dead in the street. Alistair spotted a child who desperately gasped his final breaths, and the sick feeling in Alistair's stomach only fueled his rage.

He spotted Zevran, leaping from the shadows to slit the throat of a genlock before whirling around and stabbing both knives into the chest of a towering hurlock. With a grin, he jerked the knives free and did not even seem to mind the blood that spattered across the front of his fancy leather breastplate. Nearby, Oghren swung his hammer around wildly, connecting with more than one head. He wobbled just a little as the hammer hit the ground, and pulled out a flask from his pouch. After a long swig, he threw back his arms and bellowed loudly, a sound that stopped the advancing darkspawn dead in their tracks, and sent more than a few scurrying off to find other quarry.

Axe in hand, a hurlock sprinted towards Alistair, snarling as it came. He raised his shield in preparation, but before he could move, an arrow whizzed by and pinned the creature right through the head. It crumpled to the ground. Alistair looked back at Leliana, who shrugged and smiled coyly.

"Right then," Alistair remarked, running into the square to join the Grey Wardens who were already fighting to push back the intruders. His hand clenched his sword more tightly, and the rush of adrenaline filled his muscles. It had been a long time since he had felt this way…too long perhaps. With a defiant yell, he raced into the battle, swinging his sword in familiar motions. In a downward arc, he slashed through the shoulder of a genlock that squealed as it fell before whirling around to meet the axe of another behind him. The sound of metal on metal clanged in his ears. The genlock managed to parry a few of his blows before making a fatal mistake and leaving an opening for Alistair to stab his blade deep into the darkspawn's stomach. As Alistair pulled his sword free, it dripped of the dark red blood.

A sharp blow to his chest startled him, and Alistair looked down to see an arrow falling to the ground, a small indention left in his armor. It didn't take long to find the creature responsible a few meters away, another arrow already poised in its long bow. Raising his shield, Alistair charged. He barrelled into the hurlock, knocking it off its feet. The darkspawn reached for a knife, but Alistair pinned its hand to the ground with his foot and thrusted his sword deep into the creature's chest without hesitation. The smell of darkspawn blood filled his nostrils, a scent that was both revolting and intoxicating.

Alistair searched for his wife in the melee, only to see Elissa surrounded by five hurlocks. With a speed and grace that didn't seem possible in heavy armor, she dispatched three of them in a flurry of her sword. Whirling around to face the fourth one, however, found her turning just in time to catch the creature's blade on her helmet. The impact left a dent and sent her stumbling back a few paces. Alistair ran towards her, but before he could even get there, Elissa had let out a furious yell and run the hurlock through with her blade. Alistair caught the last darkspawn by surprise from behind.

Alistair quickly moved to check on his wife. A trickle of blood ran the side of her head, staining her cheek. "You're bleeding," he remarked with concern, but Elissa brushed him off with a roll of her eyes.

"Don't make me kill you too."

A roar from behind sent them both whirling around. Alistair stretched his sword arm as they sized up the new threat. "Oh, look, they brought an ogre," he said dryly. "Shall we, dear?"

The two rushed towards the ogre. The massive beast turned in their direction, punching the ground and throwing them off their footing for a moment. It swiped its hand towards Elissa, who knocked it away with her shield and put a gash in the creature's arm with her blade. Alistair circled from behind, slicing open the ogre's ankle.

The darkspawn bellowed in rage, whirling around and grabbing Alistair in its monstrous hands. The impact knocked his blade from his hands, and it clattered to the cobblestones at the creature's feet. Raising the king to eye level, the ogre roared, putrid breath and spittle blowing Alistair's hair back. He could feel his armor beginning to crumple in the creature's grasp, making it difficult to catch his breath. "This would be a great time to rescue me," he strained to yell down to Elissa.

A trio of arrow's flew out of the air, sticking into the ogre's cheek and neck. As it turned to see where the attack had come from, Oghren appeared, swinging his massive hammer at the creature's legs, and sending it sprawling onto its back. Elissa lept up onto the beast, running up its torso and plunging her sword deep into its heart. The ogre yelled in pain before its body spasmed a final time in the throes of death.

Zevran ran up, daggers poised, as Elissa moved to extract her husband from the dead creature's grasp. "Really? You couldn't wait for me?" Zevran pouted.

Ignoring him, Elissa helped Alistair to stand. "I guess now it's my turn to act concerned."

"Oh, I'm sure it will take more than an ogre for you to get rid of me," Alistair remarked, though he didn't refuse the small bottle his wife offered. The red liquid burned on the way down, but he felt almost instantly invigorated. Glancing down at his crumpled armor, Alistair frowned. "And this was brand new, too…"

"Stop being such a girl," Oghren yelled, moving to take another swig from his own flask. He frowned and lifted the bottle up, watching as only a single drop dripped its way onto the ground. "Damn," he muttered. "We've got to get this battle over quick. I've run out of beer!"

* * *

Meanwhile, Lyana sighed as she slowly made her way through the palace. "This is really unneccessary, you know," she told Darien.

"I just do what I'm told, I'm afraid," Darien replied, trying valiantly to keep his eyes averted from the princess' figure as she led him through the unfamiliar hallways of the castle. "I'm just surprised he sent _me_. Don't you have Royal Guards?"

Lyana laughed. "Of course I have Royal Guards. Most of them got that position by being the child of somebody important, and their combat experience is laughable. I'm pretty sure even I would win in a fight against them. Father has much more faith in a Grey Warden, no matter how young and inexperienced they might be." She turned and looked Darien over. "But you look capable enough."

Darien nodded at the possible compliment, before a statue just ahead caught his eye. "Not to offend you, your Highness, but we've been wandering through these halls for twenty minutes, and unless there are dozens of that statue of King Maric lying around, I'm pretty sure we've been this way before."

Lyanna stopped walking and turned to face Darien, arms folded. "Fine. I was hoping to lose you somewhere back there but you're a little more observant than I was expecting."

"Thanks…I think."

"I just want to see what's going on out there," Lyana remarked persuasively, but Darien would have none of it.

"I don't think that's a good idea…" Suddenly, a strange sensation twitched in his mind. It was almost as if there was an itch inside a corner of his brain, like some small creature trying to burrow its way to the surface. Hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The sensation began to grow stronger, and he put his hand to his temple, trying to shake his head of the feeling.

Lyana noticed the strange look that washed over Darien's face. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"I…I think so," he told her. Suddenly, the feeling exploded across his whole mind, and his stomach clenched with impending danger. "Something's wrong…"

Before he could finish that thought, the door at the end of the hallway flung open, splintering the wooden beams. A gang of the most fearsome looking creatures Darien had ever seen rushed towards them, their twisted black faces contorting into a snarl. Heart pounding, he quickly pulled the sword and shield free from his back and positioned himself in front of Lyana.

As the first creature sprung at him, Darien blocked the swing of its short sword with his shield and knocked the creature backwards off its feet. He moved to strike, but the darkspawn brought up its weapon just in time to catch his blow. After a few more blocked swings, Darien finally connected, his blade severing the creature's arm. The genlock howled, and Darien plunged his sword into the darkspawn's chest. Blood flowed out freely, staining the carpet, and time slowed as he watched his first kill sink into oblivion.

A club connected with his left shoulder, sending a sharp pain down his arm and quickly removing him from his thoughts. Darien delivered a swift kick to the creature's knee, feeling the cracking of bone beneath his foot. Whirling around, he caught the axe of another darkspawn on his shield and stabbed it in the stomach before returning to dispatch the disabled creature.

A feminine yell from behind startled Darien. He frantically searched for Lyana in the writhing mass of bodies that attacked them, and was surprised to find her wielding two knives and fiercely catching one of her attackers in the neck. Her nose upturned as blood spattered onto her robes, but it didn't deter her from going after another darkspawn with the same ferocity. The creatures circled her warily, not quite as eager to attack her as Darien it seemed.

Suddenly, from behind Lyana appeared a darkspawn that seemed even more intimidating than the others, wearing a spiked suit of armor and a helmet that sported two large, twisted horns.

"I'm coming, Lyana," Darien yelled, pushing back the creatures as he tried to fight his way towards her. They worked to block his path, seeming to be rallied by the sight of the new darkspawn. One of the last hurlocks rushed him, pinning him back against the wall. He struggled to fight back, but felt helpless as he watched Lyana nervously confront the Alpha.

The creature did not even draw its weapon as it moved towards the princess, reaching his hand out towards her. She stabbed one of her knives deep into its palm, but the Alpha laughed, catching her wrist and pushing the knife in even deeper until the blade pierced through to the other side. Lyana gasped and recoiled her hand as the darkspawn pulled the knife free and tossed it aside. It didn't seem to notice the blood that dripped freely down to the ground. It stepped towards Lyana and she turned to run, but the creature grabbed her hair and flung her against the wall. With its free hand it grasped her wrist and pounded it against the stones until she relinquished her grip on the second knife.

Still grasping her hair by its bloodied hand, the hurlock Alpha turned and began to walk away, pulling Lyana crouching and screaming behind him. A rage filled Darien and with a shout he threw off the creature pinning him and hacked his way through the last four darkspawn until he and the Alpha were all that were left. With a yell, he charged towards the creature.

The Alpha turned at the last minute, flinging Lyana aside and drawing a massive two-handed sword from its back. Its swing crashed hard against Darien's shield, but he pushed back, flinging the weapon away and making his own move with his blade. The darkspawn caught its weapon against his, and they each swung and parried, steel flying as they sought to find the other's weakness. Darien could feel Lyana's eyes on him as she pressed herself against the wall, murmuring words from the Chantry of Light as if that would protect them from the evil in their presence.

Darien could feel himself tiring, obviously outmatched by the creature that was taller than him and twice his strength. The Alpha swung at him relentlessly, until it seemed all Darien could do was block the blows with his shield, being pushed further and further back. A piece of the rug had become crumpled up in the fight, and as the darkspawn pummelled him, Darien stumbled backwards, barely catching himself on his knee, shield poised upwards in defense.

He expected another arm-numbing strike, and when one did not immediately come, he peered around his shield to discover that he had managed to perfectly position himself by the window so that the sunlight streamed in and reflected off his metal shield into the face of the Alpha. The darkspawn raised a hand to cover his eyes, leaving its massive sword hanging weakly in its other hand. A clarity of focus washed over Darien, and he leapt to his feet, knocking the beast's sword aside with his shield as his blade sought out the gap in the armor at the creature's neck. It slid inside, and the hurlock let out a gurgling cry as it fell to its knees, and then clanged facedown to the floor.

Darien stepped back, breathing heavily, as the hurlock Alpha fell, his sword still plunged into the creature. Lyana rushed towards him, throwing her arms around his neck. "You did it," she breathed in wonder. Darien put his free hand around her in a daze, hardly noticing the princess as he gazed at the carnage around him. It was as if someone else had caused the scene, despite the blood spattered across his weapon and armor. He only realized what he was missing as Lyana pulled away, looking at her own hands and clothes in disgust. "I think I'm ready to go to my room now," she said quietly.

Snapping back into reality, Darien nodded and put his foot on the shoulder of the fallen darkspawn, wrenching his sword free with a final spurt of blood. "Anywhere without darkspawn sounds like a good place to me."


	7. Chapter 7: Ancient Secrets

**Chapter 7: ****Ancient Secrets**

Lucian leaned back against the wall, its stones chilling him in a way that was not altogether unpleasant. He cocked his head to listen, but there were only the typical voices grumbling in the darkness, voices he had learned to tune out. Lucian scowled. _If that creature doesn't return soon, I will rip it to shreds._

He wondered if the darkspawn had the mental capacity to contemplate betrayal, since what he was asking of them was far from the ordinary. He had precious little time before Mother returned from her ridiculous request for him to fetch the girl. Lucian had to admit that it had piqued his curiosity to discover that she was indeed more than a figment of the Fade, but in the end he surmised that she would be little more than a lost dreamer, a simple girl blissfully ignorant of her potential. Or at least, that Mother would keep her that way.

The campfire at his feet blazed on, and in his boredom he toyed with the flames. Spinning his finger in a circle, a tongue of flame spiraled upwards in a mimic of his actions. Lucian reached out and cupped his hands around the flame and pulled it close to him. As he opened his hands, the flame stood suspended between them. He willed the fire to grow and it did, contorting itself unnaturally into a ball. The corner of Lucian's mouth twitched upward as he lightly tossed the small fireball from hand to hand. These were his toys growing up in this strange world.

A heavy scattering across cobblestone caught his attention, and he looked up as his faithful little genlock came bounding down the dark hallway. As it came closer, Lucian grinned and playfully tossed the fireball at it. The darkspawn jumped out of the way with a squeal, snarling as it approached him.

"Calm down," Lucian said with a dark laugh. The creature scowled and came close enough that Lucian could see its dry, scaly skin and lips that pulled back to reveal jagged, yellowed teeth. The creatures never ceased to disgust him. The genlock sat on its haunches before him in an awkward, squatting bow.

"Well, did you find anything?" Lucian asked. The darkspawn replied in its usual gutteral jibberish, and even though the words meant nothing to him, somehow Lucian was able to understand them. He leaned forward, a strange sensation fluttering in his stomach. "Are you certain?"

The genlock grunted and stood, motioning for him to follow. Lucian sprang up as well, and grabbed his knife and knapsack from near the fire. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to sense if Mother was close. Thankfully, her presence was still absent from the Fade, and if luck was on his side, she would stay away for a while yet. Lucian opened his eyes as the genlock grunted impatiently.

"Go on, then," Lucian said in a low voice.

The genlock scampered quickly down the hallway, though Lucian had little trouble keeping up with his longer strides. His hand skimmed across the stone walls as they passed. These passages were familiar, though their twists and turns made them almost impossible to map. Lucian had spent the last two years exploring these halls with Mother, delving deeper and deeper into their mysteries, though often just to find themselves back where they started. This hunt for _something_ was a maddening task, and Mother had obsessed over it, until it began to turn Lucian's curiosity into a _need_ as well. He didn't know why, but he knew at the heart of this dark fortress lay the answers to desires he had not even begun to recognize yet.

Lucian had the strange feeling that this place had changed somehow, though he couldn't remember what it had looked like before. Now the halls were as strange and distorted as the rest of the Fade; as if someone had studied architecture from afar and then set about building after consuming an ungodly amount of dwarven ale. Hallways ran in circles, or abruptly ended. Stairs led to nothing but a stone ceiling. Windows were the only entrances to strange rooms. And doorways were themost deceptive of all. Going through one way did not mean you would find yourself in the same place going back. There was strange magic at work here, magic meant to keep everyone out. ButMother said that a way in had been found once before, and somewhere in the darkspawn's collective consciousness there was a memory that would open doors for them too.

As much as he shared this obsession with his mother though, Lucian knew that the way in must be found by him alone. He knew that she would try to take whatever they found for herself, and he did not wish to kill her. It would be a brief fight that he would easily win. And yet the thought of her blood splashing across the cobblestones would not please him. For all that she was cold and distant, she had been his only true companion.

The genlock stopped as two halls intersected and looked right and then left as if trying to remember which way to go. "Left," Lucian muttered, rolling his eyes. He began to suspect that the darkspawn was not going to illuminate any new secrets today. "To the right is a hall that just circles around to where we were."

The genlock barked a response, and headed to the right, unphased by Lucian's words. Lucian cocked an eyebrow in disbelief that the creature would go against his wisdom, but he followed along nonetheless. After a long time, Lucian was proven right as the hallway twisted back around, past the way back to the campfire, and returned to where the genlock once again stopped, curiously looking to the right and left as before. Lucian folded his arms impatiently. He could feel his anger growing as he wasted his precious time away from Mother with this foolish creature.

"Are you going to listen to me now?" Lucian grumbled. He expected the genlock to fall over itself in apologies before heading left, but the darkspawn determinedly plodded to the right once again.

Lucian snapped. "Oh, you think you're smarter than me, do you?" he growled, grabbing the genlock's arm. His face contorted in a sudden, yet controlled rage. "I can rip you apart from the inside out, do you realize that? Spin that worthless little brain of yours around until it is little more than mush running out through your nose." He bent down towards the creature's face until he could smell the scent of rotting flesh on its breath. "I don't have time for games."

The genlock trembled ever so slightly, bowing its head and frantically pointing down the hallway. Lucian threw its hand away from him. "You had better be right," he warned. He pushed the creature down the hallway, and it quickly ran, beckoning him to follow. They passed through a thick door into a grand but empty room, one they had been through earlier.

The genlock pulled him in and then quickly shut the heavy door shut behind them with a thud. It glanced back at Lucian, and then opened the door again. It beckoned for Lucian to follow it back out the door they had just come through. Lucian eyed the darkspawn curiously, and followed its lead. Once again, the genlock quickly shut the heavy door, but this time, it nervously rung its hands, anxiously looking over its shoulder down the dark passage. The genlock swallowed hard, and then pointed a single finger at the door.

Lucian's brow furrowed, and he pointed his own menacing finger at the creature. "If you are playing games, you know what will happen to you." He wrapped his fingers around the cold iron ring that would open the door. Taking in a deep breath, he pushed it open.

That breath caught in his throat as the room had changed into a magnificent old library, shelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling. Behind him, he heard the genlock scamper away, but he was too amazed to even call after it. _Could it really have been that easy?_ he wondered, though the simple parlor trick had managed to keep him out for years. _Round and round and in and out…as if a riddle for children,_ he mused.

Though he could tell that the library had once been a thing of beauty, it was now bound by the same taint that covered everything else in this cursed place. Cobwebs and dust enveloped the shelves, and many of the books looked like they would crumble with even a touch. Black mold tarnished the gold filigree that decorated the corners of the bookshelves. Several large planters were placed throughout the room, and out of them dark, thorny vines grew wildly, crawling up bookcases and twining around books. Some of the shelves had toppled over, spilling their contents across the broken cobblestones.

Lucian could barely contain his excitement as he rushed into the room, sweeping away the cobwebs and pulling a book into his hands. Dust fell and swirled around him as he wrenched it free. His finger lightly traced over the embossed dragon on its cover. As the anticipation became overwhelming, he opened the book midway, eager to discover its long forgotten secrets.

His forehead furrowed as pages of meaningless symbols greeted him. It was a language that he did not understand, and yet a thought taunted him that he _should_ be able to understand it. The meaning of the strange words dangled at the edge of consciousness, always just beyond his reach.

As he strained his eyes in a futile attempt to draw meaning from the yellowed pages, a hissing sound caught his attention. Lucian glanced towards the door to see that a hunger demon had managed to follow him, no doubt drawn by his scent. Having no time for such distractions, Lucian held up a hand, and the demon stopped in its tracks. Its arms flailed wildly, confused at why it was suddenly rooted to the ground. Lucian turned back to the book, while slowly cupping his fingers in towards his palm.

Invisible walls closed in on the demon, drawing its arms tight into its body. It shrieked as the barrier grew even smaller, flattening its ethereal body. Lucian barely seemed to notice as it imploded into a puff of smoke with a long, final wail. He took his eyes away from the book just long enough to mentally search for any other demons that might be in the area.

A different tingling alerted him, and he cursed under his breath. _Mother has returned._ Taking one last look around his new playground, Lucian tore the page from the book and stuffed it in his pocket. He knew he didn't have long before Mother began to wonder what he had been up to in her absence. In his frustration, he tossed the book back on the shelf.

As he turned, a soft light caught Lucian's eye and he peered at a half visible door near the back of the room. Lucian cursed under his breath, reluctant to leave so soon.

"I'll be back," he whispered to the room, before hurrying to retrace his steps back to their campfire.


	8. Chapter 8: Unseen Enemy

**Chapter 8: ****Unseen Enemy**

"I thought I might find you here," Alistair remarked as he entered the castle chantry. His daughter knelt in front of the statue of Andraste. Not particularly religious himself, Lyana's regular visits to the chantry made him slightly uncomfortable. He was reminded of his childhood, sitting in a classroom and drawing on the corners of his assignments, while the cleric had his classmates recite sections of the Chant of Light. He had never been very good at it himself, always saying things out of order. And while he thought that the Chantry at least inspired people to goodness, Alistair had a hard time devoting himself to a god that had admittedly abandoned mankind already.

Lyana stood and joined her father on the bench where he had sat down. "I was just thanking the Maker for saving me today," she told him.

"Ah, is that so?" Alistair asked. "I'm glad to hear that actually. I thought we were going to have to give Darien a medal or something."

Lyana playfully hit her father's arm. "You know what I mean."

Alistair laughed. "All I know is you've been talking to Leliana too much. Both of you going on about how the Maker talks to you…people are going to lock you up for hearing voices you know."

Lyana blushed. "What if it could be true, though?" she asked, suddenly serious. "What if the Maker really wants to forgive us after all? What if Andraste finally convinced him that we really need him?"

Alistair raised an eyebrow and grimaced. All this serious, religious talk was not his forte. "Weeell…," he began slowly, trying in vain to come up with a good response. "You should…probably just talk to your mother about that."

"But you grew up in the Chantry," Lyana inisisted. "Didn't you ever feel like you were being prepared for something important?"

"To be honest, I was better at getting in trouble. Did I ever tell you about the time I snuck out of my room at night, and drew a moustache on the portrait of the Revered Mother? They never could get it off completely." Alistair chuckled at the memory. "I think my bottom ached for a fortnight from that one."

Lyana shook her head with a slight smile, never quite tiring of hearing stories of her father's antics. "It's hard to think of you being disciplined like that."

"Well, I found a good woman to straighten me out," Alistair confessed. "That, and being a Grey Warden and all that nonsense made me grow up a little I suppose. Which was good, because they tend to let kings do whatever they want. Without the Blight, I might have decreed that every painting of the Revered Mother include a moustache. Wouldn't that be something?"

"Do you think I could ever be a Grey Warden?" Lyana asked suddenly. "Zevran has…taught me a few things. I would like to learn more."

Alistair shook his head, massaging his temples with his right hand. "Yes, I heard about you…taking care of things this evening. And didn't I tell you to stay away from Zevran? That man only thinks with his head, and I'm not talking about the one up here either."

"Yes, he told me I probably shouldn't mention my lessons to you."

Alistair took his daughter's hand. "Listen, Lyana. I have no doubt that you would make a fine fighter, and even a fine Grey Warden. You've always had more of your mother's spirit than I knew what to do with." He lowered his head and raised an eyebrow. "And she could be a stubborn, stubborn woman. But I have worked my whole life to make sure you never had to take that path. Your place is here." Alistair's face darkened. "And someday soon…you will have to take my place. You know that."

Lyana squeezed her father's hand. "Don't talk like that. You know that is still years away."

"Not so far as you think, my dear," Alistair said sadly. "Perhaps…you should think of entertaining some of your suitors. I know that the Orlesian Empress' nephew, Louis, keeps asking about you. I hear he's quite handsome, and it would be a good alliance for Ferelden. And I know your mother wanted to see you walk down the aisle before…" The words caught in Alistair's throat, and he quickly stopped himself. With a little shake of his head, he put back on his typical smile. "Ah, don't mind this old fool. It is getting late though, and you have had quite the day." He kissed Lyana on the forehead. "You should probably get to bed before Nala finds you. Even I am scared to get on her bad side."

"I'll be going in a minute, Father," Lyana replied, watching as Alistair left the room. She frowned a little, wondering why her father was so uncharacteristically serious. But the thought was soon lost amid the swirling memories from the day. It seemed like almost a dream, or a fading nightmare. It was the first time she had felt a blade sink into anything more than a straw dummy, and the resistance of flesh, the warm gush of blood, made her feel both faint and alive at the same time. The experience had been terrifying and yet strangely thrilling, and she began to understand what Zevran had told her about the _feel_ of the fight.

_And yet…if Darien hadn't been there…_ She shuddered to think of what could have happened. As much as she had always wanted to be her own hero, she had to admit that a small part of her really didn't mind being rescued. There was something oddly exciting about the feel of his strong arm around her waist, the smell of his sweat and blood tingling her senses…

A soft click behind her drew her out of her brief fantasy, and she turned. She stared at the chantry door for a moment, unable to recall if her father had closed it on his way out. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. Ever so slowly crept a distinct feeling that she was not alone.

Before she could process that thought, a moist rag clamped around her mouth. Lyana tried to scream, but the sound came out muffled as a dark, scaly hand pulled her head back into the assailant's chest. She could feel the hard leather breastplate at the back of her skull, and glanced up to see pale eyes and sharp teeth grinning down at her.

Terrified, she frantically struggled in the creature's grasp, even as a lightheadedness overcame her. Conflicted between trying not to breathe and attempting to scream, she could feel too much of the toxin entering her as she struggled. Pinpoints of light and darkness filled her vision. The creature began to drag her towards the window, and she realized that she had lost all will to fight. Her eyes drooped heavily.

As the darkspawn assassin picked her up, she felt oddly comfortable in its arms. The night breeze from the open window was soothing. With one last dizzying glance towards Andraste, Lyana slowly drifted off into oblivion.


	9. Chapter 9: Of Love and Loss

**Chapter 9: Of Love and Loss**

As Alistair left the chantry, he nodded absently to the two Royal Guards posted outside. "Just make sure she gets to bed at a reasonable hour."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the guards muttered sleepily in reply. Alistair glanced up and recognized one of them as Bann Perrin's son. _It's a good thing the darkspawn are gone,_ he thought to himself. He didn't exactly trust the nobles' children to risk life and limb if any real danger were around.

Just down the hall, elves frantically scoured the rugs and stones as he passed. Even though the corpses had been removed, it still looked as if the palace hallway had been turned into a slaughterhouse. Pools of blood soaked through the carpeting, and the walls were speckled red, as if a child had twirled round and round with a bucket of paint. The servants doubled their efforts as they spotted the king.

Alistair felt sick to his stomach as he looked over the mess. The sight of blood had ceased bothering him long ago, but this was the first time he was faced with the thought that his daughter's blood could easily have been mingled there. He felt like he had failed her in many ways. _I should have been the one protecting her,_ he thought, not out playing the hero. The thought of losing his precious Lyana was one that was difficult to bear.

The twisting in his stomach brought back memories of the first time the grim possibility of death had truly hit him. After all, he had almost lost Elissa once, many years ago. During the Blight, they had encountered a fearsome darkspawn in the Deep Roads. The dwarves had whispered tales about him, calling him the Forge Master, for he seemed to be responsible for crafting the weapons and armor that the creatures were never in short supply of. They found him working deep in the Dead Trenches, surrounded by kilns and lackeys. They were outnumbered, but Elissa was high on victory, and didn't hesitate to charge in when they were spotted.

The darkspawn rushed them, surrounding them as Elissa and Alistair fought side by side, hacking away at the writhing black mass. Nearby, Zevran cursed loudly as a thick, wicked-looking arrow suddenly pierced his thigh, pulling him out of the shadows. Elissa fought her way over to him, covering him with her shield as Morrigan snapped the arrow free and quickly bandaged it, muttering about the elf's apparent carelessness.

The Forge Master pulled his massive bow back for another shot, one that managed to pierce straight through Elissa's metal shield, barely missing her forearm. With a rage-filled yell, she rushed towards the darkspawn leader, sword cocked back for a swing. Alistair had tried to yell for her to wait, but he knew that their impulsive leader wouldn't have listened anyway. Locked into battle with a towering hurlock alpha himself, he could only watch from the corner of his eye as the Forge Master grabbed a massive hammer from the wall and countered Elissa's strikes with shattering blows.

The hurlock alpha distracted him, and he did not look back towards Elissa until an ear shattering crash echoed through the chamber. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he turned, watching as the Forge Master's hammer continued its swing, Elissa's head snapping to the side like a rag doll beneath her helmet. She fell to the ground, even as the Forge Master stumbled back itself, Elissa's blade stuck in its side. Seconds turned into agonizing eternities, and still she didn't move. The Forge Master pulled her blade free and stood over her, raising his hammer behind his head to deliver a final, crushing blow to her skull.

He remembered yelling, a sound that seemed to come both from him and emanating from the walls at the same time. Alistair sliced through the alpha and raced towards the Forge Master. Seconds before he could get there, Zevran seemed to appear out of nowhere from the shadows behind the darkspawn, wrapping his arms across the creature's shoulders and stabbing both his daggers deep into its chest. He spat in the monster's face as it limply fell to the earth beneath his arms.

He and Zevran had reached Elissa's side at the same time, locking eyes for a moment across her body. Zevran scowled and cursed under his breath, though he quickly stood and gave Alistair his space. He paced in the background, anxiously twirling his blades as he watched them.

Alistair picked Elissa up in his arms and gingerly pulled off her helmet, wincing as he saw the blood matting her brown hair. Her head hung back limply in his arms, but he could see the shallow rising and falling of her chest, and a lump unexpectedly formed in his throat.

"Well, is she breathing?" Morrigan had asked impatiently, arms folded across her chest as she towered over them. Alistair had only managed a nod, and she gave him an exasperated sigh. "If she's breathing, she'll be fine. Just a rather nasty headache in the morning." She rolled her eyes as she bent over to rummage through her pack. "Men…"

Elissa's eyes had fluttered open as she groaned, her hand instinctively reaching for her head. She groggily met Alistair's eyes. "It's…over, I suppose?" she asked him.

Alistair gave her a small smile. "I would say 'I told you so,' but somehow you'd probably find the strength to smack me."

"Smart man." Elissa tried to grin, but she choked on her own blood, and Morrigan hurried over to help her lay on her side.

They had made camp right there for the night, warmed and illuminated by the glowing forges. Morrigan had quickly banished Alistair from Elissa's side as she worked her healing magic. But even though he trusted Morrigan to take care of her…_barely_…he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of her. Alistair tried his best to ignore Zevran, who had spent his time silently, obsessively sharpening his knives all evening, and always seemed to do so more furiously when Elissa glanced in Alistair's direction with a weak smile.

_Strong, beautiful, a teyrn's daughter_…she could have had anyone she wanted. He had seen the way Zevran and Leliana had looked at her, and more than a few uncomfortable drunken glances from Oghren as well. Even Morrigan occasionally seemed to bristle with jealousy as she took up her usual lonely spot at camp, far away from the others. And while Alistair would never know exactly why Elissa chose him, it was that night in the Deep Roads that he realized how much he loved her. He had told her he loved her before, many times in fact, since that first night she had agreed to accompany him to his tent. But it was not until he realized he could have lost her that he began to understand how deep those feelings ran.

It was his love for her that had pushed him to do the unthinkable with Morrigan that fateful night before facing the Archdemon. His willingness to put their love before his sense of duty had surprised him, and he still felt an occasional twinge of guilt from the act. But all he could think about that night was the fight that would have to follow once they reached Denerim. Elissa would probably have tried to leave him standing at the gate, because they both knew he would never allow her to sacrifice herself, not if there was any breath left in him to stop it.

And yet, even as he thought about that night in the Deep Roads, or the seemingly unending battle against the Archdemon and its darkspawn horde, none of it seemed to clench his heart quite as much as the thought of losing his only daughter. _I'm probably just getting old,_ Alistair thought, forcefully jolting himself out of his memories. He took one last disgusted look around the room.

"Just throw the rug out!" he angrily barked to the servants. "All of it. That darkspawn blood isn't about to come out anyway." His tone softened as he heard himself. "And get to bed. There will be plenty of time for this in the morning."

The elves quickly stood and bowed subserviently, and Alistair excused himself from the bloody hallway. The sound of familiar voices drifted towards him, and he followed them to where the group huddled, conversing in muted tones.

"I just don't understand where they came from," Elissa remarked.

Oghren snorted. "Out of the ground. Where have you been the last thousand years?"

"That's not what I meant," Elissa replied with a roll of her eyes. She had yet to remove her armor, bloodstained though it was. She emphatically moved her hands around as she spoke, as if on the verge of pacing. "We've barely seen more than a small raiding party for years, and none anywhere close to civilization. I find it hard to believe they managed to mount an attack on the capitol by themselves. Something isn't right here."

"Beg pardon, Your Majesty," Garrett, the Warden-Commander, interrupted. "Are you suggesting that someone was directing the darkspawn? Those that I saw in the square seemed more intent on causing chaos and confusion, not achieving some sort of goal." He shook his head. "Besides, it is far too early for another Blight. It's only been 25 years. I find it difficult to believe the darkspawn managed to unearth one of the two remaining gods so soon."

Elissa shifted uncomfortably, glancing up at Alistair as he approached. He was pretty sure he could read her thoughts. "Perhaps," Elissa continued. "Still, I want the Grey Wardens to be on regular patrols throughout Ferelden. And send messengers to Orzammar and the Dalish, telling them to keep on the lookout for any unusual activity." She glanced up at Leliana. "Have you had any trouble in Orlais?"

"Not in many years," Leliana replied soothingly. "I believe you are worrying too much about this, no? These darkspawn were not organized. You saw them yourself. They were nothing short of chaotic, and when the tide was against them, they turned and fled. When the Archdemon commanded them, they fought to the last man, to the death. Surely you have not forgotten so quickly?"

Elissa shook her head in response, though she was unable to rid herself of the persistent, nagging feeling that there was more to the story. She stifled a sudden yawn with her hand. "I suppose talking about it won't make the problem go away, or make the night any younger," she finally said. "Thank you all for your help today. And Garrett, please send word to Darien that we wish to thank him personally soon. I believed he helped save this country today without knowing it."

Garrett bowed. "I will tell him, Your Majesty." They all began to disperse back towards their rooms, and Alistair took the opportunity to put his arm around his wife's waist. He kissed the side of her head and led her back towards their the royal bedroom.

"Alistair…do you think…?" Elissa began quietly.

"That we did the wrong thing?" Alistair asked, meeting her eyes. He knew their minds were both racing back to that selfish choice on the eve of battle. "You don't know if this has anything to do with that. We've been jumping at shadows for twenty-five years, lying to the Grey Wardens and peeking around every corner, just waiting for that decision to come back and bite us."

As they entered the bedroom, Alistair moved around behind Elissa and pulled out the clip that held her hair. He watched as it fell in dark, soft curls around her shoulders, just the way he liked it. "You know, maybe they attacked here simply because that is what they do. They set things on fire and drag people away, and you've got a hundred Grey Wardens all packed into one place, like some sort of darkspawn beacon. 'Party over here' and all that."

Elissa turned around and slipped her arms around her husband's neck. "You were always good at making sense, even when I don't believe a thing you say," she told him with a sad smile.

"You obviously aren't listening very well, then are you?" Alistair replied, kissing her softly. The distant sound of whining and scratching caught their attention. "Your dog seems to be at it again," he remarked.

"I put Odin in Lyana's room to keep her safe," Elissa explained. "She's probably just getting in to bed. Or he still smells the darkspawn blood everywhere. I had almost forgotten how foul it was."

"As had I," he agreed, pointing out the spatter on her armor.

"You know, I think I needed that battle," she confessed to her husband. "After the nightmares lately…I needed to remind myself that I am not like them."

"I know what you mean," Alistair said softly. "For now though, my love, I believe it is time to get some rest and stop worrying that pretty little head of yours. I can see you drawing up battle plans as we speak."

Elissa scrunched her nose. "That obvious?"

"Quite." Alistair moved to start untying the laces that held her breastplate in place. "I will send Oghren to Orzammar on behalf of the Grey Wardens tomorrow, and even tell him to take Felsi to make sure he is on his best behavior. I'm sure Garrett can find someone suitable to speak to the Dalish."

"Perhaps Zevran should look after Lyana for a few days, at least at night when there are fewer eyes watching," Elissa added.

"Did I really hear you say you want Zevran to be anywhere near our daughter's bedroom at night?" Alistair asked incredulously.

Elissa laughed. "He is not as bad as you think, Alistair. Zevran can be surprisingly respectful when necessary."

"So you say…," Alistair replied, unconvinced. He finished unlacing Elissa's breastplate and slipped it over her head. A simple tunic underneath managed to both hide and accentuate her curves at the same time. "You know, I never tire of taking your armor off," he grinned.

"Perhaps we should check on Lyana first?" Elissa asked.

"She's fine. I sent two guards with her." Alistair pulled a reluctant Elissa towards the bed and she easily gave in. He kissed her gently. "You know, fighting ogres always reminds me of our first date."

"Alistair, I've told you a thousand times that the Tower of Ishal does not count as a first date."

"Really? Because just before that I remember a romantic fire, and talk of dressing up and dancing the Remigold together."

Elissa shook her head with a wry grin. "That was you," she whispered.

Alistair laughed and rolled over on top of her in bed. "Such ridiculous stories you come up with, my dear." And before she could argue, he silenced her with a long kiss.

Distant in the background, Odin continue to whine and paw at Lyana's door, but his efforts were tuned out and in vain. The castle lights faded one by one, and two soldiers drifted off to sleep at their posts outside the chantry door. Far below the palace gates, a single darkspawn darted through the shadows on the edge of empty streets, the blond hair in its arms glinting in the moonlight.

And then all was quiet.


	10. Chapter 10: Lovers and Dreamers

**Chapter 10: Lovers and Dreamers**

Darien sat in the soldier's barracks, quietly polishing his sword by the light of the moon. Though some of the other Grey Wardens tossed and turned near him, none of them had seemed to have any trouble falling asleep. Only Darien was kept awake by an adrenaline rush that stubbornly refused to ebb away.

His finger traced along the edge of his sword, marveling in the sharpness of its blade. This particular weapon had been given to him by his father before he had left to join the Wardens. His grandfather had served in the war against the Orlesians, and had been gifted the blade when he saved a teyrn's life during a raid. Darien had treasured the sword, even trained with it, but today was the first time he had used it to kill.

Even if he had wanted to trace his steps from that evening, Darien didn't think he would be able to. The fight itself was a blur, and he had been overcome with the instinct to survive. Only his first kill stood out in his mind, and he could still see the dark light fading from the darkspawn's eyes. In that moment he felt as if he had become a man in an instant, or perhaps even a god, handing out life and death as he pleased. It should have sickened him, but instead there was only a calm exhiliration.

And when he thought of how they almost took Lyana…every strike felt like justice. Anger filled him when he thought of them dragging her off. _If anything had happened to her, I…_

Darien stopped himself from finishing the thought. She was a _princess_, and he a simple Grey Warden. While her beauty had captivated him, it was likely that she had barely given him a thought. Her embrace had been little more than a rush from the end of battle. He only cursed himself for being too distracted to even enjoy the moment, since it was unlikely to ever occur again.

He forced himself to put his sword away and finally lie down to sleep. Perhaps running a few laps around the city in the morning would put him in a better frame of mind. Darien lay back and closed his eyes, and even though he tried his hardest to put all thoughts of Lyana from his mind, visions of blond hair danced before him. He could almost feel the pressure on his chest where her firm breasts had pushed against him.

Darien sighed. _It's going to be a long night…_

_

* * *

_

One light stayed on in Denerim, faintly reaching the street from the curtained windows. The sign above the door creaked in the wind, making the crude human figure look as if it were being tossed about by the creature nibbling on its head. Inside the Gnawed Noble Tavern, the place was surprisingly empty. The events of the day had sent most men home to be with their families, or at least to go somewhere that doors could be locked tight. Only a few members of the upper class perched lonely at the bar, pondering the day's attack over a pint of ale.

At a booth in the corner, Leliana sat quietly, running her finger along the edge of her wine glass. She had found it difficult to sleep after going back to her room that night. It had been a long time since she had fought a darkspawn, and she was surprised how quickly it sent her mind racing back to another place, another time. Back then, when the rush of battle was over, they had retreated to their camp to rest together. There was a comfort in knowing that others were nearby, that someone was watching when the long night hours passed. _Faint hopes that she would sleep a little closer one night…_

Today though, she had gone back to her large, beautiful, and terribly empty room. The loneliness had been overwhelming. She thought that a few glasses of wine would help her forget and drift off to sleep, but so far it had done quite the opposite. The wine only made her feel everything more profoundly, and sent her mind whirling through old memories.

The tavern's door creaked open and Zevran sauntered in. For a moment, Leliana considered ducking under the table, as ridiculous as that would be. As much as she wanted company, she had a feeling that Zevran would do little more than pester and prod. And she had precious little patience tonight.

At first it seemed as if he did not see her, as he approached the bar and leaned across its counter, ordering a drink from the female bartender with a suave smile. The girl hurried to fill a mug to nearly overflowing, and Zevran slipped a silver coin into her hand with a wink. Leliana secretly hoped he would stay distracted, but after a single sip of ale, he walked towards her table and slipped in the booth beside her.

"Fancy meeting you, here," he remarked. "Trouble sleeping?"

"Something like that," Leliana replied. With a sigh, she tipped her glass back and took a long swig, finishing off the last of her wine. Its bitterness caught in her throat and she scrunched her nose.

Zevran chuckled. "I don't remember you imbibing quite so much."

Leliana gave him a withering glare. "I suddenly found it necessary."

"Then I only hope you still react the same way you did so many years ago," Zevran remarked with a sly grin. He took a drink from his mug as well. "Do you remember the time I dared you to drink the largest glass of ale they served in Orzammar? Probably not, actually. You wouldn't stop giggling, and every dwarf there was staring at us. Kept going on about how you wanted a houseful of nugs. I do believe Sten offered to put you out of your misery more than once. You should be thankful Alistair was there. He was the only one kind enough to throw you over his shoulder and carry you off to your room when you passed out. I almost wish I had gone with him, just to see the looks he got as he trudged through Orzammar like that."

Leliana couldn't help but smile a little at the memory. "I suppose I had forgotten that a pint of dwarven ale is like drinking two barrels of Orlesian brandy. You should be ashamed of yourself for giving me such a dare!"

Zevran laughed with a shrug. "Why not? It was a win-win situation, as you call it." He leaned in a little closer to Leliana. "So tell me, besides wishing that I would arrive, what brings you here tonight?"

"I'm not going to tell _you_," Leliana replied. "You will only make fun of me."

"It is a possibility," Zevran grinned. "Darkspawn have you jumpy?"

"Hardly."

"You are looking for someone to warm your bed?"

"I'm not nearly drunk enough for that sort of talk, Zevran."

"That can be easily resolved," he said, waving at the bartender to bring another drink. She did so quickly, leaning further over the table than was necessary to give Zevran a good view of her ample bosom. As she left, Zevran nudged the glass of ale towards Leliana. "If you are really trying to drown your troubles, you are drinking the wrong thing, my dear."

Leliana studied the glass hesitantly, but took a sip, squinting at the strength of the alcohol.

Zevran was quiet for a moment, as if trying to find the words to express his thoughts. "It's not the same, I know," he finally said. "Just like old times, but we are not those same people any longer. Life is good, do not get me wrong. But sometimes I wonder how another choice could have made everything different, don't you?"

Leliana took another drink, staring out into the room. Finally, she turned to Zevran. "I am…surprised to hear anything serious come out of your mouth. Is it my turn to make fun of you now?"

"If you desire." Zevran lightly placed his hand on top of Leliana's and she flinched. Part of her knew better than to give the elf even an inch, but another part desperately craved a connection to someone… anyone. She tensed, but left her hand on the table. "We are not so different, you know," Zevran continued. He moved his thumb under her palm and gently rubbed it with his calloused finger. It had been so long since anyone touched her that the sensation surprised Leliana, an intense tingling that wound its way through her hand and up her arm. Butterflies danced in her stomach and she drew her hand back as if bitten.

Leliana shook her head to clear it. "I am not like you."

Zevran left his hand on the table where it lay, just under her gaze. "Your youth was spent entertaining someone else, following the whims of another, just as mine. Orphaned, betrayed, heartbroken, running away from the only life you knew, trying to find something better, or maybe just to die. Thinking your heart will be forever cold because your lover's blood has just run through your fingers."

He pulled his hand back and cradled his mug, looking deep into the amber liquid as if he might find some meaning there. "And then…one day realizing you _could_ fall in love again, but fate has already decided you don't deserve it. After all, someone has to celebrate in the end, yes? To be the hero and marry the king and live happily ever after." He sighed. "But that person is not us, Leliana. The reason I am still here is the same one that sent you scurrying back to Orlais. Then we found our old familiar ruts…and before you know it, twenty years has gone by."

"What would you know of loneliness anyway?" Leliana asked bitterly. "I learned a long time ago that such fancies never ended well. But from what I've heard, you rarely have a cold bed."

"You believe all that, do you? You are more gullible than I had thought." Zevran laughed and lightly pinched Leliana's cheek, which earned him a menacing look and a kick under the table. "All right, all right, no need to resort to such _dirty_ tactics," he said, seductively massaging the word. "To be honest, my dear, it has been awhile since I have taken anyone to my bed. In recent years, I have found it rather unsatisfying. It is only a play. Entertaining for a moment, and yet in the end, it is little more than an empty fantasy. For the most part, I find women to be lovely. Quite lovely. But shallow."

Though Leliana was already beginning to feel lightheaded from the strong ale, Zevran's words were enough to cut through the haze, and she gave him an indignant glare. "You think I'm shallow, too, I suppose?"

"Hardly!" Zevran laughed. "You…are quite the mystery actually. We are cut of the same fabric, you and I. And yet our paths are so different." His tone softened. "I believe that you are what I could have been if I were a better man." Leliana looked at him, both suspicious and surprised. "I used to hate that about you, actually."

Her eyebrow raised. "And now?"

Zevran looked into her eyes. "Now…," he breathed, unable to find the words to finish the sentence. Their eyes met in silence for a few seemingly endless seconds, and he felt a slight twinge in his heart to see such genuine sadness there. His eyes flickered down to her lips and he was overcome by an intense desire to kiss her, as if somehow that would ease her pain.

He leaned in slowly, and though her eyes widened, she didn't move away. When he was just a few inches from her face, he reached his fingers out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He cradled her cheek in his hand. Zevran thought he felt her tremble slightly at his touch, and her breath quickened, warming his lips.

He leaned closer and brushed his lips against hers. She was completely still at first, fluttering her eyes closed as he gently kissed her. Her lips were soft and warm, tasting faintly of honey, and he did not even mind that she did nothing back.

And then suddenly she kissed him in return, hard and desperately. At the movement of her lips against his, Zevran felt himself becoming aroused, in a way he had not experienced in a very long time. He put his hand behind her head and pulled her closer to him, enthralled with the taste of her. Caressing her neck with his thumb, he moved his tongue to part her lips, reveling in the moist warmth he found there.

"No!" Leliana gasped suddenly, jerking herself from his arms. She put her hand against his chest and moved herself away. "We…I…," she breathed, turning to meet his eyes. "I should not have done that." She instinctively reached to smooth her hair, looking around in a daze as if she had just woken up from a strange dream to find herself in an even stranger place. "I…I have to go."

Zevran tilted his head to the side and spread his hands out, as if to say he would not stop her. Leliana hastily grabbed her things from the booth and excused herself out the door. As she left, Zevran took in a deep breath and a very long drink of ale. _Well, that was an interesting development,_ he thought. He glanced at his lap as he tried in vain to calm his arousal. Although it was the last thing he had expected to happen when he wandered into the tavern that night, he could not say that he was displeased.

He scratched his head and looked over at Leliana's half-empty glass, trying to decide if he preferred her to have been drunk or not. Of course, whether she ever spoke to him again remained to be seen…


End file.
